


Leon Knightley and the Epic Sulk

by Clea2011



Series: Leon Knightley [6]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Modern Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-30 03:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18307577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clea2011/pseuds/Clea2011
Summary: After finding out the truth about Gwaine, Leon isn't sure he's ever going to be able to forgive him.  But in the meantime there's a damsel in distress to rescue and historical bedrooms to sleep in...Part of an ongoing series.





	Leon Knightley and the Epic Sulk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vodka112](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vodka112/gifts).



> This has been a very, very long time coming and I am really sorry about leaving Gwaine and Leon like that for nearly 4 years. Thank you to the kind people who have continued to put encouraging comments on the previous parts of the series, especially the lovely Vodka who has done some great podfics for this series. Thanks also to Elveatas for running Finish That Fic which has been most helpful in making me get my finger out. And to Polo for giving this a quick beta (I'm posting without the beta as I'm at the deadline for Finish that Fic, but will give this a tidy up in the next day or two)

Leon Knightley was sulking.

His boyfriend… his _ex-_ boyfriend now… Gwaine Greene, Duke of Gloucester, 22nd in line to the throne and honest to god _prince_ was a lying git who lied.  Well, perhaps not lied exactly, but who was economical with the truth at best and downright dishonest at worst.  And he was completely and utterly dumped.  Leon glared out of the car window at a passing sheep, who just stared back at him, impassive.  Stupid sheep, Leon thought, and turned to glare at Gwaine instead.  Gwaine, after all, deserved it.  Stupid Gwaine.

They were heading for Hunith Emrys’ home.  Her son Merlin had recently been outed as Arthur, Prince of Wales’ no longer so secret love. Although Arthur had whisked Merlin away to safety, Merlin’s mother was still at the mercy of the press.  Gwaine and Leon were under Royal Orders to rescue her.  It was a bit like a knight’s quest, and that appealed to Leon a lot.  But it was a quest in the company of Gwaine, and he wasn’t as keen on that part.

Leon could sulk for England if he really put his mind to it.  Gwaine had made a few attempts at conversation on the way to Hunith’s house, but Leon answered them all in words of one syllable, or nothing at all if he could get away with it without being rude.  Because Leon was brought up nicely and would never want to be thought of as rude.  Not even to his lying, deceiving ex-boyfriend.  As they approached their destination though, it became clear that conversation was essential. 

Hunith Emrys’ house was under siege.

It was impossible to get close, because Hunith lived in a tiny country cottage at the end of a very narrow lane, and that lane was packed full of cars and vans.  Gwaine stopped his car, and frowned at the chaos ahead of them.

“We can’t take the poor lady through this,” Leon pointed out.

Gwaine looked slightly startled that he’d spoken, but recovered quickly.  “Ah, that’s what you think,” he grinned.  “You forget, you’re dealing with the master here!  I’ve had to cope with this sort of crap all my life.”

Leon was about to comment that he’d never actually seen Gwaine in the papers, when he remembered that this was almost certainly due to his mother’s now extremely embarrassing Gwaine collection.  He wondered if he could start claiming he was adopted.  “Poor Mrs Emrys,” was all he said instead.

“Yeah, bet you’re glad that’s not your mum in the middle of that,” Gwaine commented. 

Leon’s mother would have enjoyed being all over the papers and would particularly have enjoyed having Gwaine come to rescue her, but Leon decided not to tell that to Gwaine.  “Indeed,” he said instead.

“Well, we’ll soon see if there’s a way out of this.”  Gwaine pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his contacts. “Maybe there’s another way in.”

Leon couldn’t see one.  There had been people everywhere. 

“Ah.” Gwaine found what he was looking for.  He made a call.  “Merlin?”

The reporters would probably kill for that number, Leon realised as he listened to Gwaine’s half of the conversation.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re at your mum’s place now, we’ll have her safe, don’t worry.  But we can’t get near, the paps are going to be all over us if we walk up to the front door and bring her out that way.  Is there a back way in? ...  Yeah?  Where’s the nearest road? … Over a field? Nah, that won’t work.  They’d see us before we got very far...  No, we’re outside at the end of the lane, the paps haven’t noticed us yet…  Okay, if there’s no choice, we’ll have to go in this way but we’ll use the back door.  Can you let her know we’ll be coming in a minute?  Send her a photo so she’s sure it’s us…  No, Leon will do that.  I’ll do the distracting.  Yep. Yep.  Okay, see you later.” He rang off, and turned to Leon.

“Leon will do what, exactly?” Leon asked tersely.  Gwaine could have volunteered him for absolutely anything.  It wouldn’t be the first time. 

“Rescue the fair maiden.  Pretend you’re one of your plastic toy knights.”

“They’re collectible miniatures.”  Honestly, Gwaine was hopeless.  Leon had lost track of the number of times he’d explained the difference.

“Whatever,” Gwaine shrugged.  “Okay, so this is what we’re going to do.  We’re going to go up to the front of Merlin’s mum’s place, at which point they’ll recognise me and all start asking me questions.  I’ll go to the front door.  While they’re distracted, you go round the back and get her out that way.  Hopefully they won’t notice what you’re doing until she’s out.  There’s a path at the side, take her down that and back to the car.  Here,” he handed over the car keys.  “Lock yourselves in, cover Mrs Emrys with a blanket if you have to.  Ring me as soon as you’re back in the car.  Think you can do that?”

“Yes…” Leon said hesitantly. 

“But?”

“I don’t have my phone,” he admitted.  “I didn’t bring it on the trip, I forgot it.”  He hadn’t wanted to tell Gwaine that, to let him know that his earlier attempts to retrieve and answer his phone had just been a pretence to worry Gwaine.

Gwaine’s eyes narrowed.  “So I’m not the only one who doesn’t exactly tell the truth then.  Fine.  I’ll call Merlin again, tell him to let his mum know she’ll need to bring her phone.  And to send her my number.  I’d prefer not to get stranded out here with this lot.”

Leon tried to ignore the implication that he might leave Gwaine there and drive off.  Even if Gwaine did deserve it, Leon would never actually do it.

“Fine,” he said huffily, echoing Gwaine.  Then he realised what he’d done.  Echoing _Gwaine_.  But then, Gwaine was a duke and a prince and… Leon wondered if Mrs Emrys had any alcohol in the house because just for once he _really_ needed a drink. 

\---

There were a lot of reporters.  Some were actually on stepladders, trying to see into Hunith’s house.

“They probably think they’ll be able to see Merlin’s bedroom or something else they can splash across the papers with a scummy headline,” Gwaine sighed as they walked down the lane.  “Poor Hunith.”

“Can’t anything be done about this?” Leon whispered.

“Nope.  There’s a code of practice that prevents harassment, but not if there’s a huge amount of public interest like on this scale. It all sort of goes into a grey area. The law really needs to be changed. Journalists make out they’re only doing their job and go after families and friends.  Anything for a story and never mind if they upset innocent people caught up in it along the way.  The heir to the throne’s secret boyfriend’s going to be the story of the year.  Mrs Emrys’s got no chance of making them leave.”

“They’re not this bad at uni.”

Gwaine snorted.  “You think?  Wait till we get back.  It’ll be hell for the next few weeks for Merlin and Arthur. Us too, everyone there really.”  He stopped, and nudged Leon’s arm.  “Look at that.” 

One of the reporters was trying to climb a small tree overlooking the house.  It bent under his weight, almost right down to the ground again the higher he got.  Gwaine smirked as they watched the man lose his balance, fall out, and then nearly be hit in the face by the tree as it sprang free.

“Pity,” Gwaine commented.  “I was hoping it might act like a catapult, send him flying.  Oh well.”

That wasn’t very nice, but Leon found it hard to stifle a laugh.  Merlin had often talked of his mother to Leon, and she sounded like a gentle, pleasant sort of lady.  Putting her under siege was bad form, and the reporters deserved all they got.  Still, there were an awful lot of them, and Leon couldn’t see any obvious way through.  This was probably a terrible plan.  But then, it was Gwaine’s.

“I don’t see how this is going to work…” Leon began, but Gwaine just tossed back his hair, grinned at Leon, and strode off.

“Hey guys!”

Leon watched in amazement as Gwaine walked up to the mass of waiting reporters, arms outstretched.  Some turned round, spotted him and immediately surrounded him.  Within moments there was a clear path around them and Leon took it.  Nobody was taking any notice of him.  Gwaine, he noticed as he stepped over the low fence surrounding Mrs Emrys’ garden, had climbed up onto the bonnet of one of the press cars, and was fielding questions.  Every single one of those questions, from what Leon could tell, was about Arthur and Merlin. 

“Gwaine!  You must’ve known what was going on!”

“How long has Arthur been hiding him?”

“What about the rumours of an engagement?”

“Is it true they’re already secretly married?”

“Give us an exclusive!”

“Is Emrys blackmailing Arthur?”

“What does the king think?  Is he giving a statement?”

“Is Arthur intending calling Merlin his king or his queen? Our readers want to know!”

That last one was too much and Leon hurried away out of earshot. 

Mrs Emrys’ cottage was small and quaint.  There were even roses growing around the door, and when Leon went round to the back there was a beautiful view over the fields to the hills beyond.  It was much nicer than the pristine and soulless new build that Leon’s mother lived in, right in the centre of a modern housing estate.  Not as good as the official residence of the Duke of Gloucester though.

A pity that the Duke himself was such a lying git, Leon reminded himself, and tried to concentrate on the mission in hand.  It was quite important, after all.  Not only was he doing something brave and noble, he was also helping the future king’s prospective mother-in-law.  Possibly there would be a knighthood in it or something.  OBE at the very least. 

Miraculously, he hadn’t been followed by any of the reporters.  Gwaine, evidently was far too much of a draw.  Leon couldn’t see why.  Well, he could, but he wasn’t going to admit that.  Instead he rapped on the back door.

“Who is it?” a woman’s voice called warily. 

“Leon Knightley.  I’m a friend of Merlin’s,” Leon called back.

Immediately he heard the bolts being pulled back on the door, a key turning in the lock, and suddenly he was face to face with Merlin’s mother.

“Oh, thank goodness.  Thank you so much for coming. Those people just won’t leave me alone.  It’s quite frightening. Merlin said you’d be here soon.”

Leon nodded importantly.  “We’re here to rescue you, ma’am.  You need to come with me.”

Hunith picked up a small overnight case and stepped outside, locking the door behind her.  She had covered her head and much of her face with a headscarf, hiding behind it as much as she could. Leon, because he had been brought up nicely and was a gentleman, and also there was that OBE to consider, took the case from her.

“Gwaine’s distracting them,” he told her.  “We need to hurry though.  His car’s on the other side of the crowd.”

“Okay,” Hunith said. “Lead the way.”

She had that same determined look on her face that Merlin got sometimes, Leon thought.  Still, Merlin had bagged himself a prince.  The Prince of Wales, none the less.  There could be no goal needing more determination.  Although, strictly speaking, Leon had somewhat gone off Arthur and his Gwaine-like ways in recent times. Merlin was welcome to him.

Leon was happy enough to rescue Merlin’s mother, although he still felt quite apprehensive when they rounded the house and he could see all the reporters clamouring around Gwaine.

“Oh they do like him, don’t they?” Hunith whispered. 

Leon muttered something non-committal, silently praying that Hunith wasn’t about to join the ever-growing number of people for whom Gwaine was apparently their favourite royal.  But she kept quiet – wisely, given the number of people ahead of them.

Gwaine must have seen them appear because he got louder and more animated.  “You want an exclusive scoop?” he called to the press.

Really, that was like asking if they wanted free money or something.  The journalists all moved closer as one, their voices lost in a sea of yelling because yes they definitely all wanted that exclusive scoop.

“They met at university over a _year_ ago.  You’re all crap at your jobs!”

Leon rolled his eyes at that.  Yes, of course Gwaine was going to antagonise them.  Although the journalists were all laughing, obviously used to Gwaine, and just asking more questions.

“How did they meet?  Were you there?  Come on, Gwaine, tell us how it started!”

Gwaine laughed.  “That’s definitely an exclusive!  Come on, start bidding!  Gloucester House needs a new roof!”

Hunith actually stopped for a moment at that, shocked, but Leon ushered her on as the bidding did indeed start, very loudly.  “That’s just Gwaine being Gwaine.  Apparently the colour spreads we see in _Bonjour_ magazine subsidise building work and stop him going broke.”  Leon still wasn’t entirely sure he believed Gwaine’s pleas of poverty, but if it was true then at least it explained the need to shop at Asda and other such places.  It didn’t make it any better, but it was an acceptable enough reason.  Mostly.

“Broke?” Hunith repeated.

“It’s only Gwaine that’s broke.  Don’t worry, Arthur’s loaded,” Leon told her reassuringly.  Hunith frowned at him.

“I don’t care if he’s sleeping in a cardboard box, as long as he makes my boy happy and treats him well.”

Leon realised that Hunith probably wouldn’t get on with his mother very well.  They’d have trouble seeing eye to eye on the basics.  Hunith probably had no objection to shopping at Asda.  In fact, Leon thought he’d glimpsed a Lidl carrier bag in the recycling box by the back doorstep.  Lidl made Asda look posh. 

“He’s definitely not sleeping in a cardboard box,” Leon assured her.  “Come on, quickly before they see us.” 

The pair of them hurried down the lane to Gwaine’s car.  Or at least hurried as best they could given the number of press cars that they had to negotiate in order to do so. Leon could still hear Gwaine behind them.  He’d taken the exclusive at an exorbitant sum and was now starting a very noisy bidding war for some photos of Arthur and Merlin kissing that he claimed to have on his phone. 

It was fine until Leon had Hunith safely in the car.  He closed the back door on her but it didn’t shut properly because Gwaine drove a clapped-out old banger.  So Leon slammed the door loudly…

Within moments there was a reporter running up the lane towards them. 

“She’s here!” he yelled.  And then there were suddenly people everywhere.

For a moment Leon froze, staring at the mob of journalists rushing down the lane towards them, some of them actually climbing over the parked cars.  Gwaine, unhampered by cameras or notepads or anything, had managed to make it to the front and was pulling away slightly from the pack. 

“Turn the engine on!” Gwaine yelled, racing towards them.

“Oh my goodness!” Hunith exclaimed as Leon climbed in and shut the door behind him.  “Will he make it?”

“Open the door for him,” Leon instructed.  “Hold onto it, though, in case they get here first and you need to shut it in a hurry.”  He turned the key in the ignition but the engine just sputtered and died. “Oh no…”

“Hurry up!” he heard Hunith call.  He wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or to Gwaine.

The car refused to start twice more, and then finally chugged into life just as Gwaine flung himself into the back seat.  The car bounced alarmingly but luckily the engine kept running.

“Go!” Gwaine yelled.

Gwaine hadn’t even closed the door which wasn’t safe at all, but the sight of the swarm of people was enough to spur Leon on.  The car rolled forward while Gwaine scrambled to sit upright and get the door closed without falling back out of the car again.  One of the reporters was hanging onto the door and making closing it very difficult.

“Maybe we could go at more than five miles an hour?” Gwaine growled, trying to gain control of the door. 

Reporters were all around them.  Some of them were right in the path of the car.

“Put your foot down, they’ll move!” Gwaine advised.

Leon pushed the speedometer up to 10mph.  He heard Gwaine groan loudly behind him.

“Leon!  Faster!”

But that reporter was still holding onto the door and Leon just couldn’t cause a nasty accident.  He called over his shoulder to the man.

“Will you please let go, Sir.  I don’t want you injured!”

“Yeah, fuck off!” Gwaine agreed.  “Come on, give up.  You’re not going to be getting a story if you’re laid up in hospital.  _Let go!”_

“Worth a try!” the reporter laughed, and did finally relinquish his hold on the door.  He staggered a little but didn’t even fall over.  Gwaine slammed the door shut and flipped the lock.

“Now move it!”

Moving it was difficult as some of the reporters were in the way.

“They’re getting in their cars, Leon!  They’ll be chasing us all the way back to Gloucester! Come on!  Move!”

“It’s not safe!”

“Sod safe!  Just get us clear of this lot and I’ll take over the driving! You’ll never lose them at this pace!”

Leon narrowed his eyes.  So, Gwaine thought he wasn’t up to the challenge of shaking off a few reporters did he?  Right…

Seeing as it was only Gwaine’s battered old car that he was driving it didn’t really matter too much what happened to it.  Leon swerved (slowly) around a persistent photographer who was determined to get a shot of Hunith and climbed up onto the verge to avoid another couple of reporters.  He got past them, drove back onto the road and did actually put his foot down.

“I don’t like driving fast down country lanes,” he grumbled.  “You can’t see round all the bends.”

“No speed limit on them,” Gwaine shrugged.

“They’re dangerous!”

“Still speeding though, aren’t you?” Gwaine pointed out happily.  “Barely.”

Leon glanced into the rear view mirror.  He could see Gwaine smirking at him.  He could also see several press cars and those were gaining on them.  “They’re still after us.”

“These lanes are a maze if you don’t know them,” Hunith piped up.  “Turn left at the next junction, we can lose them.”

“And _don’t_ indicate!” Gwaine yelled.

Really, did Gwaine think he was stupid?  Okay, so Leon had to force himself not to use the indicator, although it went against all his most beloved rules of the road, and turned the corner.

“There’s another turning in a minute to the right, take it,” Hunith ordered.

“Ooh I like a bossy lady!” Gwaine grinned.  “Ma’am, I’m not sure you actually needed rescuing!”

“I definitely did!  It was quite frightening being trapped in there alone.  I spent last night with all the lights off.  I’m sure they mean no harm but it’s terrifying for a woman alone… ah, just here Leon!”

Leon obediently turned right and found himself in an even narrower little lane lined with overgrown hedgerows.  “Is this road ever even used?”

“Locals use it all the time.  Now there’s a crossroads just up here, take the left turning,” Hunith instructed.

“Where are we going?” Leon wanted to know.

“It leads to the main road.  Eventually.  You come out miles from Ealdor.  Oh look!  Perfect!”

A large tractor was pulling out of a field up ahead.  The driver stopped when he saw their car, waiting for them to pass.  Hunith wound down the window and waved to him.

“Slow down a moment, Leon,” she requested, then called to the tractor driver.  “Sam!  Sam!”

The driver leaned out of his cab and waved back.  “Hello there Mrs Emrys!  Good to see you!  Your boy’s done very nicely for himself! Put the village on the map!”

“Yes!  Sam, the press are following us.  Could you be a love and block the road so they can’t pass?”

“Anything for you, Mrs E!”

Sam trundled the tractor out into the road, not bothering to turn so that the entire road was blocked.  It was just in time as two cars came up the lane behind them.  The cars stopped and Leon could see several disgruntled reporters leaning out of their cars and calling to Sam to get out of the way.  Sam was talking in Welsh and cupping one hand to his ear, pretending not to understand a word the reporters were saying.

Gwaine leaned out of his own window and waved to them.

“Thanks Sam!  See ya, suckers!”

Leon couldn’t help laughing despite himself. 

“You, Mrs Emrys, are a legend!” Gwaine announced as he settled back into his seat. “I’m hiring you to plan the escape route next time the paps after Arthur! Sam too!”

“Please, you two dear boys must call me Hunith,” Merlin’s mother beamed.  “Oh, this is terribly exciting!”

Leon didn’t want to admit it, but it was true.  Still, it didn’t change the fact that Gwaine was a lying liar who lied.  He glanced in the rear view mirror and could see Gwaine’s stupid face grinning back at him.  It wasn’t attractive at all.  Leon glared back at him and Gwaine’s grin faded.

“Excitement’s my middle name,” Gwaine told Hunith.  “It isn’t Leon’s though, as you can tell from the driving.  Pull over, mate, I’ll take over just in case they find us again and we need to leg it.”

“I’m a better driver,” Leon growled.

“In your dreams!  Come on, pull over.”

Grudgingly, Leon obeyed.

“Sorry about this, Mrs Emrys,” he sighed as he slid into the passenger seat and fastened his seatbelt.  “Gwaine’s not the smoothest of drivers.”

“But Leon _is_ the slowest,” Gwaine put in.  “Okay, hold onto your hats!”

The car jerked forwards then started to speed along the narrow road.  There were lots of twists and turns and it was difficult to see very far ahead.  If anything came equally fast in the opposite direction…

“We’re going to die,” Leon groaned.

“Inevitably,” Gwaine agreed cheerfully.  “Comes to us all sooner or later!”

“I’d rather it was _much_ later!” Leon assured him.

“Oh you boys are like chalk and cheese, aren’t you,” Hunith told them happily. “Honestly, you argue even more than Arthur and my Merlin!  Must be love!”

“We’ve split up,” Leon told her. 

“Oh no!  But you’re both such lovely boys!”

“Apparently I’m not,” Gwaine sighed, glancing over his shoulder to give Hunith a mournful look.  She gazed back at him sympathetically.

“Keep your eyes on the road!” Leon squeaked.  He hadn’t meant it to come out as a squeak.  But it did.

“Relax,” Gwaine assured him, narrowly missing an unfortunate cyclist heading in the opposite direction.  “We’ll be fine. I’ve never had a single accident!”

That was probably just asking for trouble, Leon knew.  He sank a little further down in the seat.  “I don’t suppose this thing even has airbags?”

“It’s got crisp bags!” Gwaine quipped.  Annoyingly, Hunith laughed at that.

“Don’t encourage him,” Leon advised.

“Sorry, but he’s very funny.  Oh Leon, you’re both so kind, surely whatever Gwaine has done can’t be that bad?  Look how well you two worked together rescuing me.  Honestly, I’m going to tell Arthur he needs to knight the pair of you.”

“Apparently Gwaine’s already a prince and won’t appreciate it,” Leon grumbled, although he had a secret little thrill of excitement just in case Hunith really did it.  He would just _love_ to be an actual knight.

“And I’m already a knight too.  A knight of the garter.  And… uh… knight of the grand Utherian order or something,” Gwaine confirmed happily. “I’m like a living breathing version of your knight toys, Leon!  You could _play_ with me!”

“They’re rare collectibles!” Leon snapped, ignoring the innuendo. But he could see Gwaine just laughing at him anyway.

“ _I’m_ a rare collectible!”

“You’re a rare something!” Leon told him grumpily.

“Oh boys…” Hunith sighed.  “Get a room…”

\---

The rest of the journey back went fairly smoothly, despite Gwaine’s driving.  The press didn’t manage to catch up with them again, although Gwaine pointed out that if they had half an ounce of sense then they’d have gone straight to Gloucester House and would be waiting to pounce.

“We’ll go to Salisbury and drop you off home first, Leon,” Gwaine decided.  “If we arrive at Gloucester once it’s dark they won’t get such good photos.  Maybe your mum’ll invite us in for tea?”

Leon’s mother would probably grab Gwaine and lock him in the room where she kept all her other royal collectibles, Leon thought wearily.  Hunith would be in danger too, most likely.  And then there would be all the questions…

“Best if you just drop me off at Gloucester station like we agreed,” Leon sighed. “Honestly, you don’t want tea with my mother.” He glanced in the rear view mirror to smile apologetically to Hunith. “Neither of you do.”

“Leon’s mum loves me,” Gwaine explained. “She’s got a whole scrapbook of cuttings and things.  She likes me even more than she likes Arthur, and that’s saying something!”

“Won’t she be rather sad that the two of you have split up then?” Hunith enquired seriously but Leon could see she was trying not to laugh. Although she did have a good point.

“She’ll probably disown me,” Leon realised.  “But I have an allowance from my father, I’ll survive.”

“Have to start cutting down a bit on the spending though,” Gwaine pointed out.  “Start shopping at Asda with me.  No more hand-sewn monk curtains!”

“Hand-sewn what?” Hunith asked, not even trying to hide her amusement now. “ _Monk_ curtains, did you say?”

“Leon paid a small fortune for them and when I set fire to them we found identical replacements in Asda for about ten quid!” Gwaine crowed. “He had his best oh my god face ever! It was brilliant!”

“I trust you can see why we split up,” Leon growled.

Hunith just hummed non-committedly. “I’m sure you can resolve your differences.  Why don’t you come with us to Gloucester House, Leon? I’m sure Arthur would want to thank you for your help.”

“Gwaine’s dropping me at the train station,” Leon told her. “I’ll make my own way home from there.”

“What, with all this camping gear? Or is it Gwaine’s?”

Leon hadn’t considered that.  It was mostly his gear and would be very difficult to transport alone on a train.  “Well…”

“Oh come back to the house then,” Gwaine told him.  “You can stay in one of the tourist rooms with a four-poster, you’ll like that.”

“I’m not sharing a bed with you!”

“God no, I’m not sleeping in one of those smelly, creepy old things! Half the bedrooms upstairs are supposed to be haunted anyway.  No, Mum and I have a couple of modern apartments in the basement and extension. We only use the main part of the house when there’s a charity banquet or something.”

“I’m sure it’s a beautiful house,” Hunith put in. “Mine is so small.  How’s my Merlin ever going to adjust to this sort of life? He comes from a tiny village.”

“Don’t worry,” Gwaine reassured her and Leon couldn’t help noticing that his tone was suddenly gentler and kinder, and that he was giving her a quick reassuring smile via the mirror.  “Arthur loves him, he’ll make sure he’s okay.”

Arthur probably would, Leon knew. He’d noticed that all those Gwaine-like characteristics of Arthur’s tended to vanish where Merlin was concerned.  Merlin was a good influence and might even be able to iron out some of the bad habits in the crown prince.  Habits that doubtlessly stemmed from being allowed to grow up with Gwaine as a companion. 

“It’s true,” Leon assured Hunith. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Except never having another moment’s peace,” Gwaine sighed.  “You’re welcome to stay at Gloucester House as long as you like.  We’re used to dealing with the press.  Mum’ll keep them away from you.  Look on it as an unexpected holiday.”

A holiday.  In a stately home.  Hunith would probably be woken by servants who would tend to her every need.  She’d definitely be in the best of the bedrooms, perhaps in a four-poster so high that she needed a ladder to reach it.  There would be someone to help her dress for all the state dinners that she’d need to attend.  Most likely she would have a little bell that she could ring to summon the personal maid that she was bound to be given.  She would…

“Earth to Leon!”

 Gwaine was so annoying.  Leon glared at him, only to be met with a cheeky smirk.

“You’d zoned out!  Dreaming about that stinky old four-poster?”

“I was not!” Leon claimed indignantly (and not entirely truthfully).  “However, I _was_ contemplating your offer.  After all a detour to the station would inconvenience Mrs Emrys even more.  So yes, thank you, I’ll stay at Gloucester House too.”

Gwaine looked far too pleased with himself at that.  “Great!  And of course you wouldn’t be able to go home anyway because of all the redecoration going on, right?”

“What?”

“You told me before the holiday that you were going to have to give up your room because it was being redecorated. That was why I couldn’t visit.  That was what you said.”

Leon couldn’t even remember saying it, though it sounded legit.  Obviously it had been a clever ruse to keep Gwaine away from his mother.

“You look confused,” Gwaine continued.  “Surely you didn’t _lie_?”

“Oh… yes… Um… that was because I didn’t want my mother… Uh… you know she’s a big fan of yours.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t know it was me who was the duke of Gloucester, did you? You thought I was an oik and you were just ashamed.”

“Oh Leon,” Hunith sighed from the back seat. 

Great.  Of course she’d take Gwaine’s side.  Still…

“To be fair though, you _are_ an oik,” Leon pointed out.  “And if you hadn’t lied… god, no, I would have still kept you away.  Gwaine, she’s going to be unbearable!  She loves you even more than she loves Arthur!”

“I like her already,” Gwaine laughed, winking at Hunith in the mirror.  “My kind of girl.  Such great taste!  Arthur’s so over-rated!”

“That’s true,” Leon agreed grumpily.  “He’s too much like you.”

“Great guy!”

“Over-rated you just said.”

“Yes, but after that I was talking about me. He’s like me and _I’m_ a great guy!”

Gwaine was an annoying guy, that was for sure.  And Leon could have done without Hunith sitting in the back seat laughing hard at all Gwaine’s little quips.  It was encouraging him and Gwaine really didn’t need any encouragement.

“A great pillock,” Leon grumbled.

“Ah, I’m sure I’ve heard my boy call Arthur that,” Hunith put in unhelpfully. 

Damn, she was actually joining in with Gwaine now.  Leon was beginning to regret volunteering to help rescue her.

“Mrs Emrys…” he began.

“ _Hunith!”_ Gwaine and Hunith corrected simultaneously then both fell about laughing.

“Damn, you’re much more fun than Merlin!” Gwaine exclaimed.  “He’s always rolling his eyes at me and Arthur and calling us names under his breath. Can you swap with him next term?”

Leon frowned.  “Please don’t.  Merlin’s the only one who can restrain Arthur and Gwaine.  He’s sensible!”

“Are you calling our possible future king consort boring?” Gwaine asked.

“No!  I like Merlin!”

“Boring then,” Gwaine confirmed.  “Arthur’ll have you sent to the tower for that!”

Dear gods, he might!  Leon blanched.

“Leon has a rating system for people,” Gwaine explained to Hunith.  “I’m at the very bottom.  Our friend Lance is at the top as he’s almost as sensible as Leon.  Merlin’s right up there too.”

“Actually,” Leon interrupted, “I rate people on kindness. Niceness.  And yes, Merlin and Lance do both rate very highly on that score.  You, on the other hand, don’t.  Do I need to spell out the million and one reasons why?”

Gwaine looked suitably chastened.  And it was perhaps a little unfair because Gwaine had helped Nancy back in Gloucester with her fence, and it hadn’t appeared to be a rare occurrence either. But the teasing would have gone on and on and on…

Hunith broke the awkward silence that followed. “Well,” she said.  “You’ve both been very kind to me and I’m extremely grateful to you both.”

“You’re very welcome, ma’am,” Leon replied.  Gwaine nodded at his side.

“Thank you.  So, in return, would you like to know what I would say to you… if you were my boy and his love?”

Leon wasn’t quite sure.  But Gwaine didn’t seem to mind the intrusion.  “Go for it!”

“Okay.  I’d tell one of you to stop teasing the other so much because he quite obviously hates it and if you want him back then that’s not the way to get him.”

Hunith was a wise woman after all, Leon decided.  He nodded approvingly and gave Gwaine as superior a look as he could manage.  Gwaine just rolled his eyes.  Which was strange because that was what Leon normally did to Gwaine.

“To the other I’d say that you should look past the brash front that your boyfriend is putting up because it’s quite obvious to me from the way he looks at you that he really cares quite deeply for you and you should give him another chance.  That’s all I would say.  Hypothetically of course.  If you were my boy and his love.”

Gwaine wasn’t smiling any more.  “In the end, though,” Gwaine sighed, “that caring has to be on both sides.  And it’s not, not really.”

Again there was that awkward silence.  This time it went on for a while.

Leon sat back in his seat, looking at the road ahead but casting sneaky glances at Gwaine when he thought the other man wasn’t looking.  Gwaine did look hurt.  Suddenly Leon was seized by the urge to make that sad expression go away and to bring back the fun-loving idiot that Gwaine normally was. Gwaine was upset and Leon had caused it, and… Leon found that he felt just _terrible_ for doing that.  Which had to mean that he really did care. 

Oh _god._

“That’s not true,” Leon said quietly.

“What?” Gwaine looked at him in surprise, then his expression slowly melted into something akin to hope. And seeing that, something melted inside Leon as well.

“I said that’s not true.  I…  _Oh my god, Gwaine!  Eyes on the road!  Eyes on the road!”_

Gwaine narrowly managed to swerve back onto their side of the road and avoid the little mini that was inconsiderately travelling well within the speed limit in the opposite direction.   The driver of the small car was too stunned to even beep their horn.

“Idiot!” Leon growled, but Gwaine didn’t stop smiling.  He blew a kiss to Hunith via the rear view mirror because of course he did, the slimy git.  No wonder all those women liked him so much.  Leon scowled.

Gwaine smirked back at him, and looked as if he was going to make some smart-aleck remark.  But Hunith tapped the back of his seat in reminder, and instead Gwaine simply beamed at Leon and drove on.

Perhaps he was learning?

\---

If Leon had thought that Hunith’s little home was under siege, it was nothing compared to the circus that had set up outside the gates to Gloucester House.

There were vans with antenna on the roof.  There were TV cameras.  There were just so many people.  Some probably weren’t even journalists, they looked like random members of the public.  Fans of the royals, Leon supposed.  He hoped his mother wasn’t there with them.  He couldn’t see her, but that meant nothing.  That would be beyond embarrassing.

“Jesus,” Gwaine exclaimed.  “Lock all the doors and make sure all the windows are tightly shut before we drive through. Here,” he reached over and flipped open the glove compartment.  “The remote for the gate’s in there.  Purple fob.”

Leon rummaged around for a moment, then located the remote. 

“Don’t open them till I tell you.  They’ll probably try to get inside even though it’s trespassing.  God, this is worse than when Arthur came out!”

“He told me you hid him here for a month when all the press were harassing him for that,” Hunith put in. “You’re a good friend to him, Gwaine.”

Gwaine shrugged.  “He’d do the same.  He’s like a brother to me. Besides, once we’re inside they can’t get at us.  Even if a few sneak in we can throw them out.  Trouble is, we have to shut the house to the public when things like this happen. It puts a strain on the funds.  We’ll have to throw a concert or two in the grounds in the summer to make up for it.”

“You’re so kind,” Hunith told Gwaine. 

A concert.  Gwaine had a place so _vast_ that he could hold concerts in the grounds!  It would be awful music though, Leon was sure of it.  Gwaine had terrible taste in music.  Luckily Leon wasn’t seeing Gwaine any more so he wouldn’t have to suffer it.  Although he could have worn earplugs during the event.  And probably helped it all to run more smoothly because honestly Gwaine was about as organised as a hamster.  But they were split.  Leon was absolutely one hundred percent sure of that.  Mostly.  Maybe 90 percent.  80 at least. He gripped the remote tightly as they approached the media scrum.  He had the controls to the gates of Gloucester House!  _Gloucester House!_ Perhaps 70 percent then.

Actually, it was a little bit scary.  There were so many people outside the gates.  Gwaine honked the horn loudly and some moved away but there were still quite a few blocking the road.

“We might run them over,” Leon pointed out nervously. 

“Good!” Gwaine growled, honking the horn again then winding down the window.  “Oi!  Get out of the way.  Move it or lose it!”

Charming as ever, Leon thought.  Though to be fair, Leon did sympathise somewhat with Gwaine’s sentiment in this particular instance.  It was really quite tiresome not being able to go wherever you wanted without getting pestered.

Gwaine sounded the horn a third time, and kept his hand pressed down so that it sounded as a single long warning sound.  It cleared most of the remaining journalists but there were still a very determined trio insisting on blocking their way to the gate.  Gwaine slowly moved the car forward, continuing to sound the horn loudly.

“God, they really are annoying,” Gwaine growled.  “Trouble is, if I flatten them like they deserve they’ll crucify me.  Sorry about this, Hunith,” he gave an apologetic shrug to her via the rear view mirror.  “You can hide under one of the coats if you like?”

“There doesn’t seem to be a lot of point,” Hunith replied sadly. 

Some of the reporters were already busy snapping pictures of her through the car window.  Gwaine’s tatty old car was a bonus for them, Leon realised.  If they’d been in one of the smart, sleek cars that the royals were supposed to drive around in then the tinted windows could have hidden them all from view.  But no.  Gwaine’s old boneshaker wasn’t going to be able to do that. 

One man tapped on Leon’s window.  “Leon!  You know Prince Arthur and Merlin.  How long’s it been going on?  Is it serious?  Is Merlin just after the money?”

“Don’t answer,” Gwaine advised.  “They’ll only misquote you.  They always do that.”

“Hunith!” another one called.  “What’s it like being mother to the next queen?”

That, apparently, was very funny.  At least everyone outside the car seemed to think so.  All attention turned to Hunith, and a number of other journalists started calling out other often offensive questions.

On the bright side it did mean that there was finally a clear path to the gate.

“Now!” Gwaine instructed.

Leon pressed down the green button on the remote and the heavy security gates started to slide open.

Gwaine drove right up to them and then moved the car inside the grounds the instant that he had room to do so. There was a crash and the car jolted as one of the wing mirrors hit the edge of the gate and fell off, but Gwaine didn’t stop.

At least the press seemed to understand that trespassing was a crime and didn’t follow them through.  Leon pressed the red button on the remote and the gates slid shut behind them.

“There you go, Hunith,” Gwaine grinned.  “All safe now.”  He glanced at Leon who was still happily holding onto the remote.  “Maybe put that in the glove compartment before you accidentally open up the gates again and make that load of vampires think they’ve been invited in?”

Leon immediately engaged his best affronted look.  As if he would do anything so foolish!  Reluctantly he put the remote away.  He’d been hoping that Gwaine would forget about it (he was bound to have lots of spares) and Leon would be able to hang onto it.  The key to the gates of Gloucester House.  He looked regretfully down at the closed glove compartment.

“You can use it again when all this has quietened down and I take you home,” Gwaine told him.  “I’ll even drive you in the Bentley if you’re good!”

Leon realised too late just how delighted he must have looked at that idea, because bloody Gwaine was waggling his eyebrows suggestively.  Leon schooled his face into as refined and aloof an expression as he could manage (but really, the _Bentley!_ ).  Gwaine smirked, then honked his horn to make a peacock move off the driveway.  

“Gwaine!” Leon objected as the poor thing scrambled out of the way.

“Bloody birds.  We have to have them for the tourists.  That’s probably the one that screams outside my window every day.”

“I like peacocks,” Leon defended.

“I suppose you would, they’re posh!  Well you just see how much you like them tomorrow morning, once one’s woken you up.  I keep telling mum that they’re an authentic historical dish, and we could probably sell peacock pies to the tourists, but she says no.”

Leon nodded sagely, the statement reaffirming his high opinion of the dowager duchess.   Hunith, he noticed, was keeping out of the conversation.  He had a sneaking suspicion that meant she agreed with him rather than with Gwaine.  Certainly she’d not been reticent when it was the other way around.  Being royalty counted for something, even if you were Gwaine.  Still Leon was fast coming to the realisation that royalty weren’t quite as perfect as he’d been brought up to believe.  At least not if they were Gwaine or Arthur.

“And anyway,” Gwaine continued because Leon was certain that he was mentally around the age of five.  “My favourite sort of cock isn’t a peacock, it’s your…”

“Gwaine!” Leon snapped before Gwaine could finish that disgusting sentence.  “Ladies present!”

Hunith really didn’t seem to mind, she was laughing and shaking her head at Gwaine.  Hmmm.  The mother of the boyfriend of the Prince of Wales probably shouldn’t have a filthy sense of humour, Leon thought.  Perhaps the Dowager Duchess of Gloucester would teach her better ways?  Maybe Hunith would get to learn how to be a great lady and sip tea from porcelain cups with her pinkie stuck out?  Talking of the Duchess…

“There’s Mum!” Gwaine called, honking the horn in what was obviously supposed to be a salute but was in fact sadly lacking.  The Dowager Duchess of Gloucester was coming down the steps of Gloucester House, waving at the occupants of the car.  She wore designer jeans and a spotless white blouse, her hair in a chic bob, effortlessly elegant.  Leon wondered how on earth she could possibly have given birth to someone like Gwaine.

Gwaine parked the car haphazardly next to the Bentley and then got out, greeting his mother with a hug.

“Hi Mum! We rescued the fair lady from the slavering hoardes! Say I made you proud!”

“Silly fool,” Leon heard Gwaine’s mother say fondly.  He could imagine the eye-rolling that Gwaine definitely deserved.

Still, Leon quickly got out and held the door open for Hunith because he was a gentleman and knew how to treat a lady.  Hunith smiled and he had the distinct impression she was faintly amused and trying hard not to show it. 

“Hunith, it’s so lovely to meet you.  I’m Gwaine’s mum, Marianne,” Gwaine’s mother enveloped Hunith in a warm embrace.  “You poor thing, that must have been a terrifying experience.”

“Gwaine’s driving _is_ rather awful,” Leon agreed.  Gratifyingly, Marianne laughed at that.  Yes, Leon definitely liked Gwaine’s mum.  The trouble was, Gwaine just shrugged the insult off.

“I hope you boys had a good holiday,” Marianne said, taking Hunith’s arm.  “Now I’ll settle Hunith in, you two sort out all the luggage.  I’ve put Hunith in the Orchard Room.”

Leon looked around, waiting for servants to appear and carry all the cases.  Nobody else was in sight.  Gwaine was already lifting Hunith’s case out of the car himself.  Sighing heavily, Leon moved to help him. 

Boyfriend to a prince, or whatever it was that they were to each other now, wasn’t as glamourous as Leon had been hoping.

\---

Gloucester House was wonderful.

Leon had known that it would be, but honestly it was the most perfect place.  He could live there quite happily.  It would be the perfect country seat for him to launch his political career from.  He could take tea with other well-to-do folk in the drawing room, and then hold surgeries for the poorer constituents in the summer house.  It would be simply marvellous.

Gwaine, annoyingly, had dumped all of Leon’s belongings in a small bedroom in what he called the family annexe.  The family annexe had been modernised and didn’t look like the inside of a stately home at all. 

“I thought I was getting a four-poster bed?” Leon grumbled, looking around at the magnolia walls and functional furniture that probably came from Ikea or somewhere. 

“Really?” Gwaine looked confused.  “Leon, they’re antiques.  You can’t seriously want to sleep in one!  They smell!  They probably have medieval bedbugs or something, they’re so old!”

Leon suspected that Gwaine just wanted him down in the family annexe (and the bedroom adjoining Gwaine’s) because Gwaine thought they were going to kiss and make up.  Or, more likely, shag and make up because that was Gwaine’s way.  But Leon wasn’t quite ready for that yet.  Okay, so he had feelings for Gwaine but that didn’t mean he was going to forgive and forget all the lying and deceit. 

“You promised,” Leon reminded him.

Gwaine just shrugged.  “Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you.  Which one do you want?  The Queen’s Chamber?  That was done out for a single visit by Queen Anne and it’s kept all the furnishings.  Or there’s the 3rd Duke’s wife’s bedroom?  She died young and he was devastated, sealed the room up exactly how it was, wouldn’t let anyone touch it.  My dad had it opened up, it’s like a time capsule, the tourists love it.”

That sounded a bit creepy.  Leon didn’t want creepy, he wanted posh.  And it didn’t get any posher than a bedroom fit for a queen. 

“The Queen Anne room will do nicely,” Leon said quickly.

Gwaine snorted.  “Yeah, I bet.  Okay, that’s your room.  I’ll ask one of the staff if they’ll change the sheets for you.  Don’t blame me if they all give you funny looks!”

The room wasn’t sounding quite as wonderful as it did in Leon’s imagination, but he wasn’t going to back down after making such a fuss.  Gwaine would never let him hear the end of it.

“It sounds perfect.  And if they give me funny looks it’s probably because I’ve been dating you!”

“Been dating… that doesn’t sound quite so historical as ex...” Gwaine pointed out.  He had that same hopeful expression on his face that he’d worn in the car earlier.  And Leon knew exactly what was coming next.  They’d avoided the subject but now that they were alone…

“I’ll just take my things up then,” Leon attempted, but Gwaine quickly stepped up closer.

“Wait.  What you said earlier.  About caring.  Did you mean it?”

Those big brown eyes were looking up at him.  There was less confidence in them than usual, and Leon found that he really, really wanted to stop being the cause of that. 

“Yes.  I do.  Of course I do, Gwaine!  But you lied to me, how can I trust you?  Also you’re _so_ annoying and you do it on purpose!”

“It was the only lie.”

That was probably true.  Gwaine was annoying but he was always quite open about it.  It wasn’t like him to laugh behind people’s backs when he could get a far more satisfying reaction by doing it to their face. Not that Leon thought that was much of a plus.  And the single lie…

“It was a _huge_ one.  How stupid do you think it made me look?”

Gwaine bit his lip. He actually looked quite serious for once.  “Sorry.  Really. And honestly, nobody was laughing.  They all told me to tell you, like I already said. Merlin says it serves me right that you’ve dumped me.”

Obviously Merlin was the best of them and definitely Leon’s favourite now.  Though if Merlin knew then Arthur knew too and that meant Leon was in trouble.  The tower beckoned.

“Come on Leon, give me a second chance!” Gwaine continued.  “Look!” He knelt down in front of Leon, never taking his eyes from Leon’s for a moment. “I’m on my knees!”

That was quite romantic.  Leon could feel his resolve wavering. 

“I could give you a blow job while I’m down here if you like?”

Less romantic.

Tempting, though.  Very, very tempting.

Gwaine beamed up at him, then opened his mouth and waggled his tongue suggestively.  God, he was terrible.  And Leon was completely and utterly fucked. 

\---

“I’m still sleeping in the Queen Anne room,” Leon warned as he followed Gwaine out to the kitchen a few hours later.

“Whatever, just don’t expect me to join you,” Gwaine smiled smugly.  “We’d break it, it’s an antique.  You know where my bed is when you get fed up with the 18th century bedbugs up there!”

Leon did know.  Gwaine had a massive bed that was super-comfortable.  His room looked out over a spectacular view of the park (at least until Gwaine closed the blinds for privacy) and really even Leon couldn’t find anything to fault it.  He would have quite happily stayed in there permanently.  But there was that historic four-poster upstairs and there was no way he was missing out on a chance to sleep there.

Plus he wouldn’t have to listen to Gwaine snoring.  Win-win.

“It won’t have bedbugs.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”  Gwaine pushed open the door to the kitchen.  “Hi Mum!  I can smell something cooking, I’m starving! Hope you did enough for us!”

Marianne Greene was standing over by the oven, hard at work. 

“Of course.  You can give me a hand – plates and cutlery on the table, then sort out the bread and salad… oh god, Gwaine wash your hands first!”

Leon stood helpfully by but Marianne just shooed him away.

“You’re a guest, Leon.  Go and sit with the others.”

Hunith was sitting with Arthur and Merlin around a large and very solid wooden dining table.  Merlin was holding his mother’s hand and looked a lot thinner than when Leon had last seen him, probably down to all the stress.  Arthur just looked angry, though he had brightened very slightly when he saw Gwaine and Leon.  Well, Gwaine anyway.  Leon wasn’t sure if it was even safe to be around the crown prince given the threats Arthur had doled out regarding looking after Gwaine’s heart even if they were sort of back together again now.  But then Gwaine shouldn’t have lied.  Remembering that Gwaine had claimed Merlin was in favour of telling Leon the truth, and therefore was the most likely to be on Leon’s side, Leon smiled brightly at Arthur’s boyfriend.

“Hello Merlin, good to see you!”

Merlin gave him a small smile. “Thanks for saving Mum.  I owe you one.”

That was good.  That was very good, because if Arthur (who was definitely not giving Leon friendly looks) decided to haul Leon off to the tower then perhaps Merlin would save him. 

“I was pleased to help,” Leon assured Merlin, trying not to look at Arthur just in case the prince really was glaring at him.

Leon sat down at the table next to Hunith as Merlin was sandwiched in between her and Arthur and he definitely didn’t want to sit beside Arthur.  Gwaine came over with cutlery, serviettes and plates, plonking them down in the middle of the table then going back for a large bowl of salad and a plate of delicious-smelling freshly-baked bread.  Those also got dumped in the middle of the table. 

Hunith and Merlin very quickly sorted it all out so that when Marianne brought over some parmesan a few moments later it looked as if Gwaine had actually laid the table out nicely. 

“Thank you, whichever of you helped him,” Marianne told them, not fooled for a second. 

Gwaine pouted, then sat himself on the edge of the table because _why_ would you use one of the perfectly good chairs when you could sit on a table instead?  Leon gave Gwaine as disapproving a look as he could manage but of course that only encouraged him.

“I could sit on your lap instead?” Gwaine offered.

Leon rolled his eyes and started to look away, then realised that meant he would be looking at Arthur.  Gwaine, surprisingly, was preferable.  At least Gwaine wasn’t going to send him to the tower and have him beheaded or something.

“Just sit on a chair!” Leon hissed.

“It’s my house!” Gwaine hissed back smugly.

“Mine too,” Marianne sighed, coming over with a massive bowl of pasta.  “You don’t get the lot until I’m dead, and I intend keeping an eye on you for many decades to come.  So get off the table, Gwaine, we’re about to eat.”

Gwaine slid off the table and it was Leon’s turn to look smug.  Smug, at least until Gwaine drew up a chair far too close to him and started trying to cuddle up, play footsie and just generally be annoying.

“Stop it!” Leon whispered.

“Make me!”

Leon didn’t need to.  Gwaine’s mother cuffed him lightly round the head, gave him a meaningful look, and Gwaine behaved.

The Dowager Duchess was definitely Leon’s favourite Greene.  

“Mum!” Gwaine protested.  “Be nice!  We rescued Merlin’s mum from the paps!”

“They did!” Hunith confirmed.  “You have wonderful friends, Merlin.  So kind and brave.”

“Hunith’s brilliant!” Gwaine exclaimed.  “Honestly, once we’d got her away from her house it was her who did the saving.  She got this bloke with a tractor to block the road so the press couldn’t follow us!”

“But we helped her escape from her house,” Leon put in, just in case Merlin stopped owing him that favour. 

“That means please remember us on the new years honours list, Arthur,” Gwaine smirked.  Leon glared at him but Gwaine just shrugged and reached over for some bread.

Well, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if Arthur decided to knight him or something.

Dinner turned out to be a choice between vegetarian lasagne or meatball pasta bake.  Which actually meant for everyone except Merlin, both.  It was all pretty tasty.  Leon was soon comfortably full and decided he could very happily live at Gloucester House.  And after all, most dinners would probably be in some sort of giant dining hall, waited on by servants as befitted a titled family.  The dinner in the kitchen was probably just to make Hunith and Merlin feel more comfortable.

“This is delicious,” Hunith exclaimed.  “You must give me the recipe for the lasagne, it’s not easy having a vegetarian son!”

“Meat is murder, Mum,” Merlin grumbled.

“It’s also very tasty,” Arthur pointed out, spearing another meatball.  “Mmm… cow!”

“Remind me why I put up with you?”

But Merlin didn’t need to be reminded.  Leon could see it there in the besotted look that Merlin and Arthur were exchanging.  The unpleasant publicity just seemed to have made their relationship stronger from what Leon could see.  Arthur had one hand resting over Merlin’s on the table, gently, fondly stroking the skin. And that was nice, tender and caring.  Leon wondered what Gwaine would do if he tried the same thing.  Something crude, probably.

But Gwaine must have seen him looking, or maybe Gwaine thought it was a caring gesture too.  Because there was just the slightest touch, just one finger gently stroking the edge of Leon’s hand.  Gwaine looked at him, questioning if that was okay.

Leon moved his hand a little closer, turning it so that they were practically holding hands instead.  And if he’d looked back across the table, he might have seen Arthur’s expression settle into something like approval.

\---

The press didn’t go away.  

They were still camped outside the main gate well after sunset, which meant nobody could easily leave even if they wanted to.  And the helicopter circling overhead, doubtless with a camera on board trying to catch a glimpse of Arthur and Merlin, meant they couldn’t even sit outside with a glass of wine that evening. 

Hunith and Marianne were getting along very well and had gone off somewhere with wine, chocolate and Netflix.  They’d made it very clear that it was a girls only night.  Which was a shame, because Leon suspected Marianne would have much better taste in wine than her son.

Leon looked longingly out at the terrace from the admittedly very comfortable lounge they had settled down in after dinner.  It was a gorgeous evening and it would have been wonderful to sit out there admiring the estate.  He was trying very, very hard not to show just how much he was loving Gloucester House because Arthur had already made a couple of digs about Elizabeth Bennet and how her attitude to Darcy changed the moment she saw Pemberley.  If Leon wasn’t scared of being locked in the tower he might have made a snarky comment back about how surprising it was that Arthur knew these things…

“Was it the Colin Firth version or the Keira Knightley version?” Merlin asked, because he could.

“Perhaps I read the book?” Arthur attempted but Merlin just snorted with laughter at that idea.  “Fine.  Colin Firth.”

Merlin laughed harder so Arthur gave him a playful shove. Merlin retaliated and somehow that changed into snuggling up on the sofa.

“Hot man in wet shirt!” Gwaine agreed.  “Classical literature at its finest!”

“That bit wasn’t actually in the book,” Leon pointed out.

“Technicality.  Have more wine!” Gwaine unsurprisingly had a well-stocked cellar and although Leon suspected it was well-stocked by Asda it appeared to be the better end of the range for once. Still, Gwaine’s mother was probably drinking the really good stuff. “You’ll need something to warm you in that draughty old bedroom you want to sleep in!”

“What’s that?” Arthur was obviously paying more attention than it had first appeared.  “I thought you two had made up?”

The tower beckoned again.  Leon paled.

“Um… we have…but…”

“Leon wants to sleep in one of the antique four-posters upstairs,” Gwaine explained.  “So I’ve put him in the Queen’s Chamber.  Obviously I’m staying down here where it’s comfortable.”

Arthur sat up, interested.  “The Queen’s Chamber…Isn’t that the one that’s supposed to be haunted?” he asked, suddenly looking quite curious.  “Didn’t one of the dukes’ daughters back in the 1800s get pregnant by one of the stablehands and throw herself out of the window or something?”

“Oh yeah…” Gwaine began.  “It was a scandal!  They hung her lover and cut his balls off.  Actually it’s both of them haunting the place, he’s searching for his lost jewels!”

Leon wasn’t falling for that one. He knew what they were up to and besides he could see Merlin rolling his eyes at both Arthur and Gwaine.  Merlin was a useful ally against the pair. 

“I don’t believe you,” Leon told them.

“Are you calling me a liar?” Arthur asked, deadly serious.

It went against everything Leon had ever stood for but…

“Um… yes.”

Merlin toasted him with his wine glass approvingly and just shrugged when Arthur turned to glare at him.

“He’s right.  You are.  Both of you. Don’t listen to him, Leon.”

“It’s in the Legends of the House of Gloucester book,” Gwaine protested.  “You can buy a copy in the gift shop.  Me and Arthur wrote the foreword thing!”

That really wasn’t the recommendation that it would have been a year or so ago, Leon thought ruefully.

“We can sign it for your mum if you like?” Gwaine added.

“Royal seal of approval,” Arthur agreed. 

“By the order of the royal clotpoles?” Merlin asked.  “Honestly, Leon, you do what you want.  Don’t listen to these two.”

Merlin was going to be an excellent and very wise royal consort, Leon knew.

“Describe clotpole,” Arthur commanded.  “Sounds like something you made up!”

“In two words?”

“If you can.”

“Arthur Pendragon.”

“Oh, really?  We’ll see about that!” 

And that set off more of the shoving, tickling and eventual snogging and snuggling.  Honestly, Arthur and Merlin were a bit nauseating and really shouldn’t be inflicted on the world.  Leon looked away and found Gwaine watching him with a curious expression on his face.

“We’re good, right?  That bed thing is just you wanting to live the dream?  Not because you’re still mad at me?”

“I don’t think there’s ever going to be a time in our lives when I’m not just a little bit mad at you for something,” Leon told him honestly, smiling a little as he said it.  “But no, we’re good.”

“That was almost a joke from you,” Gwaine pointed out, leaning in to kiss him.  “You know that’s my job, right?”

Leon just smiled, and kissed him back.  Gwaine tasted of wine (though that was nothing new) and hope for the future, and it was all Leon could do not to give up on the Queen’s chamber and suggest they headed to Gwaine’s room instead. But he couldn’t.  He’d made such a fuss, for one thing, he’d never hear the end of it.  Besides, that room was going to be amazing.

“You could always sleep in the Queen’s room too?” Leon suggested. 

“God no!” Gwaine pulled away from him in disgust at the idea.  “We’d break the bed.  And it stinks of old things in there.  I’ll just leave my door open and you can come down when you’ve had enough of it.  In fact, let’s hurry that moment along.”  He stood up, looked despairingly at the other couple (who seemed to have forgotten that they weren’t alone), then cocked his head towards the door.  “Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

Leon followed him out, trying not to appear too eager.  But really, a room and bed where an actual queen had slept!  Amazing!  He attempted a polite goodnight to Arthur and Merlin but barely got a handwave in response and just more wet kissing noises.  Ugh.

“Do you want the tour?” Gwaine asked as they left the lounge. “Because really you’ll need to wait ‘til the guides are back in.  I’m not much good at it.” He led Leon down a long corridor, tastefully painted and decorated with prints of what Leon assumed were the grounds of the house.  Gwaine, his mother and a man who looked enough like an older version of Gwaine to likely be his late father all featured in them. 

“This used to be the servants passage back in the day,” Gwaine explained.  “The family use it now.  Quick access to the main house.  Or quick escape when the tourists are in!  Here’s the main entrance.”

Gwaine unlocked a heavy door at the end of the passageway, and Leon suddenly found himself in a huge and terribly grand entrance hall.  There was a vast marble staircase in the centre, winding its way up to the floors above.

“This is where all the public come in,” Gwaine told him. “You can smell how old and stuffy the place is.  We have guides who come in and sit in the various rooms to talk about it.  Must be really boring but they all seem to love it.”

Leon wasn’t listening.

He stood in the hallway and just stared.  Because there on the wall, larger than life and far, far better turned out, was Gwaine.  All dressed up in an expensive suit, his hair cut neatly… it was like a wet dream. 

“If you like that,” the wet dream’s far less appealing real life counterpart told him, “you can buy a print in the gift shop!  I’ll even sign it if you like!”

“I was just surprised you could ever look so smart,” Leon sniffed, and followed him up the stairs.

\---

The Queen’s Chamber was amazing.

Okay, so it did have a rather musty smell.  And it was dark in there because the poor excuse for lights were on minimum wattage to protect a faded tapestry on one of the walls.  Also the bed looked rather short for someone of Leon’s height, but he supposed he could curl up.  And there was a bowl of water (cold) to wash in because there was apparently no plumbing in that part of the house.

There was also a chamber pot.

“Really?”

Gwaine shrugged.  “You wanted the authentic experience.”

“But…” Leon gazed in horror at the pot.  The glaze on it was cracked with age.  Long-dead people would have peed in it.  People with all sorts of hereditary diseases.  There would be so many germs lurking in it…

“It’s an antique,” Gwaine added, quite unnecessarily, because _obviously._   “Authentic. You put it under the bed.”

“I know how they work, Gwaine,” Leon growled.

“You’ll have to empty it yourself though,” Gwaine continued cheerfully.  “The house maintenance folks didn’t mind setting the room up for you but they said absolutely no way on any pot-emptying.  At least mum didn’t make us curry this evening, right?”

Leon chose to ignore the implications of that last bit.  Gross.  “I assume the door to the family area will be open so that I can use the facilities there if I need to?” Leon asked.

“Yeah, sure!  Me and my facilities will be waiting!”  There was that cheeky waggle of the eyebrows again.

“No, I mean…”

Gwaine didn’t let him finish, just laughed and waved.  “Have a good night!”

And then he was gone and it was just Leon and a dimly-lit empty room.  Well, he hoped it was empty anyway.  Not that he was going to take any notice of anything Gwaine or Arthur said.

One of the little lights that were dotted around the room chose that moment to sputter and go out.  They were supposed to look like oil lamps but were clearly just old-style bulbs because Gwaine was too cheap to change to LED.  So old-style that they probably wouldn’t last very long.  It wasn’t creepy.  It was explainable.  Leon did not believe in ghosts.  He _did_ believe that Gwaine and Arthur were terrible people.  Even if he was maybe a tiny bit in love with one of them.

Yet again Leon wished he’d remembered his phone.  It had a torch.  Also he could have texted Gwaine and told him exactly what he thought of being given dud bulbs presumably as a joke.

Still, there was the bed.  Leon gazed at it admiringly.  It was a beautiful old four-posted with intricate carvings of rabbits and deer in the headboard.  The posts were each created to look as if the wood had twisted into a thick cable, seamlessly blending with the floral frieze that ran around the top.  Perfect. 

Someone had put fresh sheets and pillows on the bed as well, though the quilt looked as if it had seen better days.  Happily, Leon changed into a t-shirt and shorts, then climbed into bed.  He wished that he had brought a book, or even just a torch from their camping trip, but whoever had sorted out the room had only brought up Leon’s small rucksack.  Mostly that was full of clothes he’d already worn on holiday and which now needed washing.  Perhaps Gwaine could get someone to do that in the morning?  Gwaine employed staff, after all, which was a whole bizarre concept that Leon had yet to completely get his head around.

With nothing else to do, Leon began to wonder about the staff.  So far they had been quite elusive. Although that was the mark of good staff.  They should do their job properly and not be seen or heard.  Marianne must have employed them because Gwaine would have probably just picked out the ones most likely to go drinking with him.  Perhaps they all stood to attention when Gwaine and Marianne were in the room?  Maybe they even bowed?  Gwaine was a prince, after all.  And would they bow to Leon, who was after all their prince’s boyfriend?  For a moment Leon indulged himself in that fond fantasy.  And then he remembered Nancy, whom he had met on the way to the camping holiday.  Nancy would have been unlikely to bow. 

Still, Leon had the four-poster bed.  Wriggling down under the crisp, clean sheets he prepared for a luxurious night.  It was probably the original mattress. A queen had slept on it.

It _was_ the original mattress.  It was lumpy and sunken in the middle.  There was also a very unpleasant smell, either from the quilt or the mattress or quite likely both.  Gwaine hadn’t been kidding.  God, it was bad.

Another light started to flicker.  Leon hoped that one wouldn’t go out too.  There would only be four left and none of them could be more than 20 watt at the most.  Obviously he would normally just turn the lights out to sleep but he didn’t want to on this particular night.  Not because he thought the room was creepy because obviously it wasn’t no matter what Arthur and Gwaine said.  No, he wanted the lights on so that he could admire the beauty of the room.

What was that moving in the corner? 

Just a shadow, the movement effect was caused by the flickering light.  Leon rolled over onto his other side so that he didn’t have to be distracted by that.  A grim-faced woman stared down at him from a painting high on the wall.  That wasn’t too pleasant either.  He lay on his back and looked up at the canopy.  It was dark and a bit grim… and was that a spider up there?

Leon shifted around, trying to get comfortable.  He tried not to think about Gwaine and his huge luxurious mattress downstairs.  The house was very, very quiet.  That was probably because he was so far away from the noisy members of the household.

Something creaked outside his room. 

It was an old house.  That happened.  Or maybe Gwaine had changed his mind and was coming back for a shag because Gwaine totally would do that and never mind about the ancient old bed that might fall apart.

There was a creak again, this time it sounded as if it was coming from the window.

“Gwaine?” Leon called softly.  “Is that you?”

Silence.

Leon settled down again, wishing he was downstairs with Gwaine, or even in that nice guest room he’d been given earlier.

Suddenly there was a blood-curdling scream from outside the window.  Leon leapt out of bed and was halfway to the door before common sense prevailed.  Of course it would be Gwaine or Arthur playing a joke on him.  They weren’t funny at all.  Taking a deep breath (and trying not to tremble too much) he walked over to the window and pulled back the drapes.  There was nobody down in the courtyard below.  And no balcony for anyone to stand on.  The scream came again, louder this time. Leon gulped.

And then he picked up his rucksack and hurried out. He’d experienced all the historical culture that he needed to for one night.

He didn’t run.  Well, not once he was safely through the door to the family quarters anyway.  And he walked quite calmly along to Gwaine’s bedroom, pushed the door open and slipped inside.

Gwaine was lying in bed watching a movie.  He paused it as soon as he saw Leon, and sat up, grinning from ear to ear.

“Not up to your standards?”

There was no point in pretending.  Besides, better to let Gwaine think that Leon had fled discomfort rather than what had actually happened.  “Just how old was that mattress?”

“A few hundred years, probably.  I did warn you.”

Leon sighed, and climbed into the huge, wonderful bed.  “You were right.  And it did smell too.”

“I was right!” Gwaine beamed.  “That’s a first from you!”

“It’s the exception that proves the rule.” Leon looked at the frozen image on the TV screen at the end of the bed.  “What are we watching?”

“Avengers.  Or…” Gwaine’s grin got even wider.  “We could get naked and sweaty and suck each other off?  That’s my favourite game!”

It was high up there on Leon’s list too.  He took the remote from Gwaine, switched off the TV, then pulled off his t-shirt and threw it on the floor.

“Oh, I’ve taught you well,” Gwaine grinned, pulling back the sheet to reveal an impressive erection.  The expectant git was sleeping in the nude, of course.  He’d probably been wanking to Thor.

Leon really didn’t care as long as he didn’t have to go back up to the haunted room again. 

And then, suddenly, there was the scream again from outside.  Leon jumped a mile, while Gwaine just groaned.

“Bloody peacocks!  I’m having them put in pies, I don’t care what the tourists say!”

“Peacocks?” Leon asked weakly.

“Yeah, I told you earlier, they’re a pain.  Worse this time of year when it’s mating season.”

Outside, the peacock screamed again.  It was a horrible noise.  And a bit of a passion killer too.

Leon found himself agreeing with Gwaine again.  Peacock pies might be the answer.

\---

Morning in Gloucester House was pretty perfect.

Leon wasn’t going to admit it but he might have woken up first and spent a little time just watching Gwaine sleep (and snore).  Gwaine was smiling slightly, as if he was having a very pleasant dream.  Knowing Gwaine it probably involved alcohol and sex and annoying Leon.

Or perhaps not annoying Leon.  Gwaine had said that he loved him.  In his funny way perhaps he did.  And perhaps Leon loved Gwaine back.  After all, he hadn’t been looking forward to being without him.  Gwaine really wasn’t so bad after all.  Perhaps he had got a point about Leon and his royal fanboy ways.  A very small point.  But they were over that now and Leon was going to stop fighting the attraction and try to make a go of it.

The prince thing had absolutely nothing to do with that.

Well, maybe just a teeny tiny bit.  But he’d been with Gwaine for ages before he’d known about that.  No, somehow, completely by accident, Leon had managed to get everything he wanted.  And bizarrely that was Gwaine.

Gwaine let out a particularly loud snore, then woke up, looking around in confusion for a moment.  Leon rolled his eyes.  Everything he wanted.

“Gwaine!” Marianne’s voice echoed through the door.  “Wake up, your uncle’s here.  He’s not happy.”

Gwaine swore in a very un-princely manner, then started to get up.  Leon did too.  It didn’t register with him who that uncle might be until a little while later when they walked back into the living room and Leon saw the man who was sitting there arguing with Arthur.

It was the king.  The actual, genuine, king of all Camelot.  Gwaine breezed in and slapped the man on the shoulder, then perched on the arm of the sofa where Arthur and Merlin were sitting.

“Hi Uncle Uth!  How’s the reign?”

Oh. My. God.

Gwaine was talking to the king with all his usual disrespect.  Uncle Uth indeed!  To make things even worse, Gwaine pronounced it ‘Oooth’.  It sounded nothing like ‘your royal highness’. Nothing at all.  Leon stood in the doorway for a few moments, frozen in place.  Then he quietly sat down in a vacant chair as far from the king as possible.  Uther didn’t even notice him.

“Silence, Gwaine.  I’m talking to Arthur.”

Arthur looked furious, but then so did Uther.  Merlin, on the other hand, was sitting next to Arthur looking petrified.  He was staring at the king in open-mouthed horror, and clinging onto Arthur’s hand.

“As I was saying, you’ll renounce this” – he waved his hand at Merlin – “commoner.  You’ll tell the papers it was a student prank and that you’re getting engaged to Princess Elena or Vivian or Mithian or whichever one you want.  I don’t care, as long as it’s someone female with royal blood.”

“I love Merlin,” Arthur snarled.  “I’m not giving him up.”

“Will he give you heirs?  Did I not provide you with enough private tutors to understand basic biology?  Arthur, you are my heir!  You need to continue the line.  You can’t with this… this _boy_!”

Gwaine was never one to keep quiet.  “You know Uncle Uth, if you get too pissed off with Arthur you can always bypass him and make Morgs the heir instead.  The paps’ll love that.  She could have a topless coronation!”

Leon’s eyes widened.  To be fair, so did Uther’s. 

“Over my dead body!”

“Well…” Gwaine spread his hands.  “I wouldn’t be so crass as to say so but I gather that’s how it goes.”

Arthur tried and failed to hide a smile at that.  Merlin and Leon both just gaped at Gwaine.  Gwaine shrugged, and continued.

“Look, I don’t want Arthur getting stressed, or Morgs getting cold, so I’m willing to step up if you like.  Bypass a few of those ancient cousins of yours or whatever.  Plus look!  I have Leon! You’d approve of Leon!  His mum’s a big fan and he’s really posh and respectable!”

Leon tried to press himself further into the chair but there was no hope.  The king’s icy gaze fell on him.

“And who is this _Leon_?”

“My boyfriend.”

“My father is an earl, your majesty,” Leon whispered.  It came out far more like a squeak than he had intended.

“Really?” Uther looked him up and down.  Leon wished he was anywhere else. “You don’t look familiar.  Still it’s a pity Arthur couldn’t have taken up with you instead if he _must_ go with men.”

That was rapidly becoming a less than attractive idea.  Gwaine’s mother was definitely a far easier person to get along with than Arthur’s father.  Gwaine’s mother was _nice_.

“I have always found Merlin to be very pleasant company,” Leon found himself saying.  Oh god, he was disagreeing with the king.  It was the tower for him and then a gruesome execution.  Did they still hang draw and quarter people?  Uther had the look of one of _those_ sorts of monarch.  “He’s kind and intelligent, and when Arthur and Gwaine are driving the rest of us mad he’s the only one who can control them.”

Uther’s eyes narrowed.  “Arthur drives you mad?”

Oops.  Yes, definitely the tower. 

“And me, Uncle Uth!  Leon mentioned us both!”

“The latter is hardly news,” Uther said drily.  “Be quiet Gwaine.  Your friend…”

“Lover,” Gwaine corrected quickly.  “Boyfriend.  _Mate_.”

“Yes, yes, whatever. He seems a respectful sort and has an interesting point. Arthur has long been influenced by your bad behaviour and I suspect that’s where the idea for this unsuitable liaison has come from.  I blame you for this, Gwaine.”

“Then I should thank you, Gwaine,” Arthur said coldly.  “Father, enough of this.  Merlin is my choice and that’s an end to it.”

“I forbid it!”

Arthur shrugged and got to his feet, pulling a still-terrified Merlin with him.  “Then I give up my right to the throne.  And I’ll be sure to make a statement telling the press exactly why, including their monarch’s outdated and homophobic attitude to same-sex partnerships.”

Leon really wished he wasn’t there.  King Uther might well decide to send the whole lot of them to the tower at any moment.  Obviously Merlin would be first on the execution block, but the rest of them would probably be considered guilty by association and suffer the same fate.  He glanced worriedly at Gwaine, but Gwaine just looked as if he were lapping it all up. 

“This isn’t a partnership, it’s a fashionable _phase_!” Uther roared.  He glared at Merlin, who visibly cringed.  “You’ll leave my son alone and never come within a mile of him ever again!  And… Arthur!  Don’t you dare walk away from me!”

Arthur had taken Merlin by the hand, turned and headed for the door. 

“Where are you going?”

Arthur didn’t answer and just kept walking.  Leon stared at the king, who was going a quite interesting shade of puce.  Perhaps the king was going to keel over from stress and Leon would be right there to witness the end of his reign?  That would be terrible for Leon’s future political career.  No future king or queen would want him anywhere near them in case he brought bad luck.  How would he ever be Prime Minister?

“Arthur!” Uther called.  “Come back here this minute!”

But Arthur and Merlin had left the room.  Uther turned to Gwaine, jabbing a royal finger at him.  “This is all your influence!”

“Nah,” Gwaine shook his head, smiling.  “I think this one’s all on you, Uncle Uth.” 

“Stop calling me that!  I am the king and I will have your respect!”

“Or you’ll what?  In case you haven’t noticed, kings stopped being able to send people to the Tower a very long time ago!  Also, respect is earned.  Like Leon said…”

Leon cringed, really wishing that Gwaine wouldn’t keep reminding the king that he was there. Uther’s glare extended to include him.  Great.  He was off to the tower no matter how much Gwaine said he wouldn’t be.  He just knew it.

“... Merlin’s a great guy!”

King Uther was a very scary man.  Leon noticed that the peacocks had gone quite silent that morning.  He’d probably taken one look at them and they’d flown off.  Leon wished that he could do the same.  This was _not_ how he had envisaged meeting the king.

“Anyway,” Gwaine continued, “I’m hungry.  You had breakfast yet Uncle Uth?  Mum could make those great pancakes she does with the smiley face on them, that’ll cheer you up.”

The king was going a very strange shade of puce. 

“Gwaine,” Leon whispered.  “I think that’s enough.”

“Egg and soldiers, maybe?” Gwaine continued. 

“Sire!” An older gentleman came bustling into the room.  Uther immediately turned to him.  It looked as if he did so almost in desperation.  Leon could sympathise.  Gwaine was terrible when he was trying to wind you up.

“What is it, Geoffrey?” Uther snapped.

“I think you need to see this, Sire.” Geoffrey hurried across the room, turned on the TV and flicked over to a news channel.

Arthur and Merlin were on the TV.  Live, according to the caption. 

“They drove down to the gates,” Geoffrey told the king.  “Security have ensured they’re locked but the prince said he was going to make some sort of announcement whether we opened them or not.”

“Dear Lord, he wouldn’t…” Uther breathed, staring at the image of his son on the screen.  Arthur seemed to be arguing with the security guards who were looking increasingly harassed.  Merlin was standing behind him looking out at the press with undisguised horror. 

“Aww, that’s _brilliant_!” Gwaine exclaimed.  “He’s going to stand down as crown prince! Come on, we don’t want to miss this!”

He grabbed Leon’s arm and half-dragged him towards the patio door.  Not that Leon took much persuading.  Getting away from the angry king was something he was more than happy to do.

“You’re sure he can’t lock us in the tower?” Leon checked as soon as Uther was out of earshot.  They were hurrying around the building, heading for the car park.

“Relax.  If he could, I’d have been in there years ago! There was this one time when me and Arthur were on school holidays, and we’d got into the state rooms at the palace.  Someone had left old Uncle Uth’s crown up on his throne so we were messing about with that and a roll of paper I was using as a sword.  Anyway, I was being king and was just in the middle of sentencing Arthur to a particularly painful and some might say perverted punishment…”

Leon side-eyed Gwaine.  “You? Perverted?”

“Hard to believe, I know!  Anyway, there’s Arthur over my knee getting a good spanking when in walks Uncle Uth with all his entourage plus the king and queen of some other country and all _their_ entourage.  Turned out there was some major state visit going on.  I was banned from the palace for nearly a year after that.  Arthur wasn’t too popular either.”

Leon could well imagine the scenario.  He had no reason to suppose that Gwaine and Arthur had been any less awful as teenagers than they were as adults.  He hurried after Gwaine, his heart giving an excited leap as he saw they were approaching the Bentley.  But no, Gwaine opened the door to his battered old car and got in.

Resignedly, Leon joined him.  They raced down the long driveway and skidded to a stop near the gates.  Arthur and Merlin were standing there, the journalists all pushing up against the gates, trying to get the best view.  As Leon got out, he could hear what Arthur was saying.

“And so as my father refuses to acknowledge my relationship with Merlin, I will be standing down as crown prince.”

There was a ripple of disappointment from the crowd.  It appeared to contain royal fans as well as journalists.  Leon thought he could hear some of them crying.

“We love you Arthur!” someone called.  “Don’t go!”

Yes, that was probably one of the ones crying.

“We love Merlin too!”

And then there was just a cacophony as all the journalists tried to ask their questions at once.  It was awful.  Leon wondered why he had ever wanted this.

Behind him he could hear another car pulling up.  Leon didn’t look around.  The loud gasps of “The king!” were quite enough to tell him who was getting out.

“Your majesty, what are your thoughts on Arthur’s announcement?” someone asked. 

“Do you consider yourself a homophobe?” another journalist asked

“Still want to know if Merlin is going to be queen!” came a third one.

“This is great!” Gwaine whispered.  “Bet you’re glad we didn’t drop you at Gloucester station now!”

Leon wouldn’t have minded being at Gloucester station at that moment.  He still wasn’t sure that King Uther wouldn’t throw them all in the tower.

The king made his way to the front, standing beside his son.

“Of course Arthur isn’t going to be giving up his position.  We were _surprised_ by his choice of partner but of course Arthur is a man of the people and it’s only right that he should be dating one.  And in modern times there is no reason why that shouldn’t be a” – there was a definite flinch –“man.”

“So you approve, Father?” Arthur checked.

Uther had got a blood vessel twitching slightly in his forehead.  Arthur’s reign could be starting very soon if he wasn’t careful.  “Of course.  Merlin is a fine young man.”

“When are you getting married, Arthur?” one of the crowd called.

“Yeah, we want a day off!” someone else yelled and lots of them laughed.

“Well,” Arthur glanced at Merlin, who smiled very shyly back at him.  “It’s funny you should say that…”

\---

It was bedlam after that.

King Uther made himself scarce as soon as he could do so without losing face.  Leon supposed that there would be a huge row just as soon as Arthur got back to the house. 

Merlin and Arthur were posing for pictures.  Arthur was posing, at least.  Merlin was blushing furiously and obviously wishing he were anywhere else. 

Leon did not envy him.

“Gwaine!” one of the reporters called.  “Are you going to be Arthur’s best man?”

“Of course he is,” Arthur replied.  “He’s like a brother to me!”

“There you go!” Gwaine beamed.  “It’ll be a speech to remember!”

They lost interest in him after that, only concentrating on Arthur and his fiancé.  Gwaine and Leon sat back on the bonnet of Gwaine’s car, giving silent support to their friends.

Except mostly Leon was thinking about the wedding.  An actual genuine royal wedding.  And he would almost certainly be attending.  He’d be on TV (and probably was already).  His mother was going to die of happiness.  Actually, she was going to be unbearable.

But still, this was rapidly turning into the best day ever.

“Will you be wearing that suit to the wedding?” he asked as casually as he could.  “You know, the one from the painting in the hall?”

Gwaine just smirked at him.  “If you like!”

Leon could hardly wait.

\-----

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Leon Knightley and the Royal Wedding will be along at some point :-)


End file.
